User blog comment:Llamao/The Strangers/@comment-25220117-20111122201423

The fox and his crew all lay dozing lazily in a bath of sunlight upon the open deck of their ship, Sea Devil, naught the slightest breeze to disturb them. A rusty-red weasel, Skilley, was perhaps the only one out of the crew awake, posted to make sure nothing bad happened while the rest of the crew were otherwise 'occupied'. He spit over the rail at the thought of it. The young weasel despised the lot of them. Ever since he had joined the crews were stealing, bullying and menacing in every way imaginable-No honor among thieves. Mackey and Ridjo seeming to exist solely to prove that point. At the thought of the two searats, he turned, eying the snoring bodies with distaste, before his eyes feel upon a dusty jar of spiced rum lying between them. He hadn't had something to drink for awhile...Perhaps this was his chance to do so-And pay the fleabags back-It should last a sole weasel a few hours of vengeful glee, pushed on by the help of the strong, tasty liquor...He slunk over to them, took it up, and took a sniff of it, licking his dry lips. This was going to be fun...